The Swings Were Broken
by hail.to.the.busdriver
Summary: Jasper and Rosalie and siblings on the run. Their parents were killed when they were 15 and now at 17 they must follow the path that leads to the reason behind the destruction of their lives. With help from friends along the way, can they make it?
1. Chapter 1

The swings were broken.

I was sitting on the stairs on my parents back porch.

I was seventeen and I had no home. My only family was my sister.

"Nobody's here." I turned to see Rosalie standing in at the open backdoor.

"Did you really expect someone to be here after what happened?" I asked, my anger rising as painful memories filled my mind. My eyes swam and I shook my head furiously, leaping to my feet. I looked back at Rose through my long fringe

"No… but I half hoped." She said sadly as she dropped down to sit on the stairs. I walked over and sat beside her, putting my arm around her shoulders.

The yard we had grown up in was in ruins. The vine that had grown on the side of the house, the one my mother said was so sweet, had overgrown half the driveway, before dying in a brown tangled heap on the ground.

The tree house I'd built with my father when I was ten years old lay in ruins. The floor had collapsed depressingly along with half of the roof…

Emptiness hung over the yard, the house. I wanted to forget everything and yet needed to hold onto it at the same time.

I stood up and held out my hand to Rosalie. She took it and I pulled her to her feet.

"We need to keep going" I said quietly. She nodded sadly and swept the yard with her eyes one more time

"I'm ready" she walked over to wear our packs had been dumped on the dead grass. She slung hers over her shoulder and passed me mine. "I'm ready" she repeated. She walked to the back fence and threw her bag over before jumping over herself. I followed her, throwing my bag over as well.

I took one last look over the yard and the house where I had grown up.

The swings were broken.

**Hey it's me, I know it's the same but I'm redoing all the chapters because some people have pointed out some errors that I missed. **

**I've been banned from fanfiction for a couple of weeks but I'm trying to fix stuff and catch up on my stories again, so expect updates :D**

**Love .**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Swings Were Broken**

**Chapter Two: Creak of an Old Screen Door**

My mother once said that the human mind is like a filing cabinet.

Everything we hear, see, smell, touch or taste gets stored in little parts of our brains, a bit like separate files in a cabinet. The things we use daily such as speech, reading and writing are stored at the front of the filing cabinet so we can access them easily, whereas the things we use only once or twice in our lives are stored all the way at the back of the cabinet because they aren't as important or as reliable as the ones that we use so often. The tabs on the files are like markers in our memories. The markers are there to help us relive our past or to bring back a lesson we once learnt.

For example have you ever smelt or tasted something that you had when you were younger or maybe at a special event and memories of that time or event come to mind? Let's say you had pumpkin pie for the first time at a thanksgiving when you were seven. You loved the smell of the spices, cinnamon, nutmeg etc. ok; now say you had pumpkin pie again when you were eleven. You would think about the first time you ate pumpkin pie, wouldn't you? You would remember and compare the pie you were eating then to the pie you had when you were seven.

The same thing happens with sounds. Maybe a thunderstorm brings back memories of when you were five and you hid under your bed in terror at the large cacophony of sounds that shook your window panes and rumbled the floors like a giants footsteps, or maybe it will bring back the image of a brave and curious child who sat with their small hands pressed against the rumbling glass, staring at the flashing sky in wonder.

The markers are different for everybody but we all have them. We all react differently to them.

For me the voice of a man with a French accent or a black man with long dreadlocks brings back the memory of the stranger that appeared at the backdoor on my tenth birthday.

_I stealthily crept into the kitchen with a look of utter concentration and excitement was portrayed on my small face. I glanced quickly to my left at the empty doorway that lead to the rest of the house and then to my right at the empty kitchen. I slowly extended my small shaking hand and scooped up a little bit of the chocolate icing off of the cake that was to be shared by Rosalie and myself in celebration of our tenth birthdays. It tasted so sweet. I slowly reached my hand out again, craving more of the sweet chocolaty goodness…_

"_Jasper Whitlock, what are you doin'?" I glanced guiltily at my mother, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her tired hands planted on her hips and a fierce expression on her beautiful face_

"_Uhh… Taste test?" I supplied cheekily and folded my hands behind my back. I glanced guiltily at the floor and then darting my eyes back up. My mother's face drained of colour and her eyes widened as if in shock. Her shoulders slumped and her hands fell to her sides._

"_You shouldn't have come" she half whispered, her voice heavy with fear._

"_Momma… umm... I live here" I said, my tone portraying the obliviousness of my ten year old self. Her eyes flickered to my face and she took a step backwards as if she had just remembered that I was in the room. She shook her head and forced a smile although I could tell she was still scared because her eyes remained a dead blue, with none of the playful light they usually held when she smiled._

"_Jazzy, honey, why don't you go and find Rosie, make sure she's ready for the party." Her tone was strained and she kept glancing at the back door behind me. I nodded solemnly and walked towards the doorway she had just entered through, the one that lead to the hallway. I glanced at the backdoor and saw a tall black man standing on our back porch. He had long dreadlocks, some of which were tied back and a leather jacket the colour of dried blood. He met my gaze and I saw a heavy glint in his black eyes. A sneer settled on his dark face as he spoke to me_

"_Yes… run along small boy… listen to you mother" he said in a thick French accent. I lingered in the doorway for a second longer, unable to tear my gaze away from the stranger's piercingly black eyes, but when my mother turned and nodded in the direction of upstairs I had no choice but to turn and leave the room. I did not however head upstairs as I was told but crouched in the hall and eavesdropped on the stranger's and my mother's conversation_

"_Laurent, you should not have come here… what if they find us?" my mother said frantically. I heard the creaking of the old screen door as someone pushed it open_

"_Sara, I had to warn you… zey have leads… zey know what you are doing… what you 'ave done… eet eez not a matter of eef, but a matter of when zey will strike." His harried tone grew in volume as he spoke._

"_Shh… I have the twins… I cannot go with you… come; we must go somewhere else to talk… Jasper, I said go find Rosie!" She could not see me from where I was crouched around the corner and yet she knew I was there. I shook my head in disbelief and marched towards the stairs in search of my sister…_

I didn't see the stranger named Laurent again that day…

I did however meet him some years later, although I never grew to like him much. My mother was quite flustered and jumpy for the next few weeks and I would often find her and my father whispering urgently in the kitchen or the lounge. I was mostly oblivious to a lot of this and didn't really put the pieces together until a lot later on… of course by then it was already too late… for my parents anyway…

**Please excuse the shit French accent :D blame harry potter... hope you like it :D**

**Reviews are always appreciated :D**

**xoxo .**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Swings Were Broken**

**Chapter Three: Mouldy Curtains Pushed Aside**

I walked to the window and pushed the mouldy curtains aside. A sickly orange light slid into the room and I heard the rattle of a passing train. From the single bed behind me I heard Rosalie mumbled in her sleep and let the curtain drop with an exhausted sigh. It had been two weeks since we had visited our parent's home and we were still no closer to finding the truth then we were when we left the god forsaken place two years ago. I crossed to the bed and poked Rosalie in the stomach. She moaned angrily and rolled over. I poked her again.

"What you playing at Jazzy-pants? I'm trying to sleep" she groaned sleepily

"It's your turn to sit watch." I answered, a smile in my voice

"Yeah alright, alright. I'm up" she dragged herself up and stalked over to the window. I collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep slumber immediately.

_I found myself walking down the street I used to play baseball on with my friends before all this happened…_

_The hedges that many of the houses had as fences were overgrown and tangled in masses on the ground and over the footpath…_

_The sun was setting and it seemed like I was alone in this eerie neighbourhood…_

_I walked down the street to the small park Rosalie and I used to play in…_

_There was a girl on the swings…_

_She had short spiky hair and pixie features…_

_She was beautiful…_

_She turned to face me as I opened the gate that surrounded the play equipment and flashed me a cheeky grin…_

_She leapt of the swings and skipped away_

"_Wait," I called after "come back!"_

_I ran after her but she jumped over a nearby fence and by the time I reached the fence she was long gone. I walked back to the swings defeated…_

_Darkness fell and I was swallowed by the night…_

"Wake up, Jazzy, wake up! We gotta get out of here!" she shook me frantically and rushed to the corner where our bags were. She started shoving things in higgeldy piggledy. She ran into the bathroom to grab things before running back and shoving them into the packs.

"Rosie, what's wrong?" I said jumping up to help her by grabbing the food out of the mini bar fridge. "What's happened?"

"They're here. I saw them pull up in a black sedan. We gotta go now." she said in a jumble of words. I knew better than to question Rosalie so I grabbed Rose's bag and then my own before throwing open the door and running down the three flights of stairs, my sister close behind me.

I walked as fast as I could without looking suspicious into the car park just as the sedan door was flung open…

I quickly grabbed Rosalie's hand and we ran behind some of the trees that were growing on our left close to the entrance. I glanced back to see some men getting out of the car. Their faces looked twisted in the orange light and my heart skipped a beat.

"Quick this way" I heard Rosalie hiss and she yanked my arm to the right, down a small alley way that ran behind the dodgy motel. The alley was deserted and we quickly made our way to the main street at the end. Cars sped by us and but it was all in a blur of exhilaration and fear. We made our way to the railway station nearby and looked around. We wanted to catch a train Arizona. We were planning to do it in the morning but obviously our stay had been cut short. I grabbed a bottle of water out of my bag and handed it to Rosalie. She smiled gratefully and took it. A train rattled through the station and some people got off. Nobody paid us any attention. Who would? We just looked like two dirty, underfed, teenage runaways and who had time for them anyway? Who cared?

We walked through the station before finding a bench in the shadows of a staircase. We sat down and dumped our packs beside us. Both of us were too awake now to be able to sleep so we just sat in silence staring out at the people passing by.

This sort of thing happened a lot. We would find a place that would lure us into a sense of false security and in the dead of the night they would arrive and we were forced to pack up and run. I knew it was stupid to go to a station so close to them but it was at least 30km to the next one and I didn't have the energy to walk that far tonight.

Rosalie exhaled loudly and slumped on the bench.

"Did you recognise any of them when they got out of the sedan?" she asked

"No. I wasn't able to get a proper look at their faces. I was too busy focusing on getting away. I took a glace back but that orange light made them look evil, not human… it was creepy." I said, a shudder running down my spine.

"We gotta get out of here real soon because they'll figure out we came this way and we don't want them to know which way we're going next or they'll find us as easily as they did tonight." Her voice was defeated and I knew that she was getting close to giving up.

"Hopefully the McCarty's can help us. Mama trusted them so we should too." I patted her arm "it'll be good to have some friends for a change" I laughed before realising how terribly depressing that had sounded. We both fell silent for a few minutes contemplating our options and the McCarty's.

"But what if they won't help us? What if they turn us away? We will have travelled all that way for nothing." Rosalie argued

"We won't have travelled all that way for nothing. Mama always trusted family and we should too. He's our uncle after all. We're blood. How can he turn us out the street? We'll only stay a few days at the most and then we have to go on anyway."

The train pulled into the station about ten minutes later and we ran aboard. Now before you ask, no we hadn't bought tickets but why would we when we know how to ride for free?

It isn't that flash actually. Basically we just hide in the toilet when the ticket collector comes by. Pure genius if I say so myself.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Swings Were Broken**

**Chapter Four: A Soaked Tablecloth**

I've always had a good memory, ever since I was little. My mother said I was like an elephant. Not as in I was fat or anything but because elephants never forget. She had phrases and theories about everything. One of her sayings was 'no point crying over spilt milk'. She would say this whenever someone got upset over a small thing. I'm not exactly sure why she said it but there were some situations where it just simply fit.

"_Look Jazzy, look what I can do!" I glanced over at my sister and laughed. She had balanced her spoon on the end of her nose. I was eleven years old and I was sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast with my mother and sister. A smile flickered over my mother's face before her thoughts swallowed her focus again and left no traces that a smile had ever existed._

"_Teach me, teach me" I begged her enthusiastically_

"_Alright but it'll cost ya." She said grinning_

"_How much?" I asked cautiously_

"_Not money. I want to pick our next birthday cake"_

_I thought about it for a few seconds, I really didn't want to end up with a fairy princess cake but I was desperate to learn her trick that I shrugged it off and agreed._

"_Yeah, yeah alright just teach me how to do it!"_

"_Well first ya gotta rub your spoon on ya shirt. See, like this. Then ya gotta breathe on it. Now, just rest it on the end of ya nose." She explained patiently. She burst out laughing as I pulled a range of stupid facial expressions trying to get the spoon to stay balanced on my nose. I tried over and over again to balance the spoon for about five minutes but I still couldn't do it. In frustration I finally flung the spoon onto the table. It bounced off the hard surface of the table and went flying. It hit the milk carton and caused it to tip over and spread across the table cloth and drip onto the floor. I glanced guiltily at my sister who just sat there staring at the mess with her mouth wide open._

"_Oh Mama! I'm so sorry." I leapt up to grab a dishcloth, but my mother got there first._

"_Jasper! Why don't you ever pay attention! For god sakes!" she exclaimed angrily as she mopped up the spilt milk "I don't need this right now. I can't take this." She started crying and I knelt down beside her_

"_Mama, no point crying over spilt milk." I said quietly. She smiled and wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hands. I put my small arms around her neck and hugged her tightly. I had to make her feel better. I felt terrible for making her sad._

"_I'm sorry Mama" I said sadly. Rosalie got up from the table and wrapped her arms around my mother as well_

"_It isn't your fault… I'm sorry I got mad… I just wish… never mind" my mother smiled and shook her head. "Come on, I'll clean this up. Both of you go get ready for school. I'll walk you to the front gate if you get ready quickly" Rosalie and I grinned to each other and then jumped up off the floor and rushed upstairs to finish getting ready._

My mother used to do this a lot when I was younger. Something small would happen and she would break down or just start crying. Rosalie and I tried to help her as much as we could but with no prevail.

Pasts never disappear completely after all. They always catch up with you in the end.

I hardly thought of my father because he wasn't around much when I was younger. He was away at work a lot although I never really knew what he did. He wasn't a very emotional or caring father, not giving much attention to bonding with his children. I don't know why this was and I wish I had had the opportunity to talk to him adult to adult rather than the small child I was when he was around.

One memory I do recall of my father occurred when I was seven. I had found a bird on the road that had been hit by a car…

"_Papa! Papa! Look!" I ran past my father to kneel beside the dying bird. Its wings were sticking out in different directions. It was depressingly comical to say the least. "Papa can we take it home? I can help it get better! We'll take it to the hostipal!" I scooped the bird up into my hands and smooth down its feathers. Its chest moved up and down unevenly and its eyes were only half open._

"_Put it down Jasper. It could be carrying all manner of diseases. Let's go." My father said in a rough voice._

"_But Papa… we can't just leave it here… It's hurt… it needs our help" I said in a whiny voice. My father held up his finger and closed his eyes._

"_There is no point crying over that…that _thing_. Get up and stop acting like a baby, Jasper."_

"_But it will die if we leave it here" I sobbed, my bottom lip trembling and my eyes welling with tears._

"_Everything dies. Leave it now. It's just road kill." He said and he grabbed my arm and started dragging me up off of the ground. The bird fell in a crumpled heap and I tried to bend over to pick it up again but my father dragged me down the side walk in the direction of our home. I pulled against his grip as hard as I could but he was holding my arm tightly._

I had told Rosalie about the bird as soon as I had gotten home and we snuck out of the house in the dead of night with a small shovel and buried the dead bird in our garden. I always remembered what my dad had said. He believed that animals were mere road kill. whereas my mother used to say she was proud of the fact that I had compassion for all living things.

Even when they didn't deserve it in the least.


End file.
